A Stranger's Story

The taxi driver seemed grumpy. “Do you have a preferred route?” 

“Oh, you choose uncle - the roads quite empty ‘cos of the school holidays so we should be okay.”

I was dreading to continue chitchatting with the man, but I was determined to practice my conversational skills. One of my colleagues had shared with me recently that he’d begun to take every taxi journey as an opportunity to push himself. Not only was he trying to get better at having casual conversations, but also as a non-Singaporean improve his understanding of the local accent.

Like a magpie, I decided to grab hold of his brilliant, shiny idea and there I was at the back of the blue taxi wondering if I had bit more than I could chew. 

Sitting at the back, I could only see a part of his face, much of which was covered by his sunglasses. His tone continued to be quite unfriendly.

“Yes, the roads are quiet, otherwise there is a big jam at this hour.”

“It’s quite nice that there is not so much traffic. But I hear that Singapore is having to close some schools now that there are not enough children.”

Little did I realise that remembering the morning’s headline from the Straits Times was the key to hearing the most incredible story.

“Yes, now not enough children. But I went against the trend. I have three children and seven grandchildren now. Today, the government would give me and my wife a bonus for having three children, but when my second daughter was born we were fined $250 for having more than two. It was a lot of money in the early 80s. And when she was applying to university, she was told that she could not get a place in Singapore because she was the third child. I asked her if there was nowhere where she could study. ‘Papa, I have found a university in Australia that would have me, but it costs so much’. Never mind, I said, we will find the money for it somehow. Because my daughter was a foreigner, wanting to study medicine, they would not allow me to pay yearly. I had to pay five years’ fees upfront. Half a million dollars. I sold our family home, and moved to a small apartment. My son was doing his National Service, and we told him not to come home from the barracks during his leave as there was no space.”

I was flabbergasted (not something that happens to me very often), I could not believe the sacrifices that the family had been willing to make to ensure the education for the youngest. 

“Uncle, what kind of doctor is your daughter now? I hope she looks after you now.”

“There was a very powerful connection between two strangers, and the experience remains very strongly with me even now.”

“Oh she practices emergency medicine at Singapore General Hospital. She is a good daughter, all my kids are good. Last year it was our 40th wedding anniversary. My son and daughters asked me and my wife to come looking at properties with them as they were thinking of buying. We drove up to a block that I knew really well. ‘This is where we used to live!’ My children laughed, ‘We know Papa’. We went up to the same unit that we used to own. My children had bought us back the old family home, and gave us all the deeds and everything.”

At this point, the taxi uncle was slightly embarrassed. 

“Every time I tell this story of what my kids did, I get a bit emotional.”

The power of his story had moved me too. I felt very privileged to have heard it. There was a very powerful connection between two strangers, and the experience remains very strongly with me even now. The power came from genuine curiosity and interest for the other person’s perspective and experience, and the genuine willingness to share your own experiences with others. Truth be told, it did require some effort not to get disheartened by first impressions of the other person, but I am glad I did.

A true story - this happened to me in April 2016 when I noted it down. The recent news of the continued decline of Singapore's fertility rate reminded me of it.